In China, the Mao heritage industry is thriving. The former communist ruler’s image has shifted from political posters to tea cups and now, increasingly, Mao Zedong doubles reenact episodes of his childhood and political life for theater, film and TV soaps.

In perfecting their acts, Mao doubles train their voices, mimic body language and undergo plastic surgeries. They can even be booked for personal appearances at family celebrations. Photographer Tommaso Bonaventura has set out to create a portrait series of these Zedong doppelgangers.

“I spent a lot of time … getting in touch with them and convincing them to be photographed,” says Bonaventura. After a journalist friend told him about the specialist lookalikes, Bonaventura traveled to Changsha, capital of Hunan province, where most of the Mao Zedong doubles are based. Mao, who never mastered China’s dominant language Mandarin, is Hunan’s most famous son; his revolution began with its rural peasants.

“They don’t belong to real agencies.” says Bonaventura. “The one double from Beijing works alone. They often work in patriotic stage productions with a theater company based in Shaoshan [Mao’s birthplace].” The Mao ersatz also work a lively circuit of banquets, holiday celebrations and weddings, at which they deliver famous Mao speeches in his dialect. He Na, reporting for the China Daily, has described the scene at a wedding in Changchun, Jilin Province: “With his theme tune, ‘East is Red’, [Mao lookalike] Li Shouxin makes his entrance at the wedding banquet dressed in a blue Mao suit.” The appearance makes revelers feel as though they’ve added something very privileged and unique to the occasion.

The strange thing is, political satire in China is largely absent, so the impersonation of Mao is somewhat paradoxical; China doesn’t even allow cartoons of its leaders.

David Moser, writing for Danwei, describes the contradiction: “I turned on a Beijing TV variety show and was jolted by the sight of ‘Mao Zedong’ and ‘Zhou Enlai’ playing a game of ping pong. They both gave short, rousing speeches, and then were reverently interviewed by the emcee, who thanked them profusely for taking time off from their governmental duties to appear on the show. I was completely flabbergasted. From what I thought I knew of China, I would have assumed that such an act would be considered absolute sacrilege, like a skit with Jesus and the Apostle Paul playing gin rummy on a broadcast of the 700 Club.”

Most Mao doubles do not earn a living wage from their acting and appearances and hold down other jobs. Though the hobby is not without its perks. One Mao double, a restaurateur, enjoys a high volume of patrons who dine hoping that the Great Leader might show up and sing Happy Birthday. Bonaventura could not estimate what each Mao double earns.

“They have a very strong competition amongst themselves,” says Bonaventura. “Any one of them thinks that the others are not good enough as Mao doubles.” Select lookalikes do hold the advantage over others. Mao was respected for his calligraphy so lookalike Gu Xiaoyue, renowned as a master calligrapher himself, can boast added value and “authenticity” in his act.

Mao doubles will never speak their own words through Mao’s lips. Unlike many Elvis impersonators, the Mao doubles act in homage and not irony. As Moser notes: “What is lacking in the Chinese context is the concept of kitsch. I don’t think the Chinese have it. Part of the fun of watching a group of Elvis impersonators is the ironic awareness that Elvis is being subtly condescended to at the same time he is being glorified, and this may represent a distinctively Western aesthetic mode.”

Despite his many travels, Bonaventura cannot gauge the public feeling toward his subjects. “It’s hard to say if they are widely respected. Mao doubles are respected in their environment.” One presumes success in the industry depends on adherence to the script.